Sometime Around Midnight
by slightlysickpsycho
Summary: Not a songfic, but inspired by the song. Years after the war, Severus watches Hermione with Ron at a party, and longs for her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: This fic will be rather short- four parts.

Years have passed since the war now, and I've grown accustomed to my place in society. The Ministry gives me a stipend, though it's really more of a technicality than a source on significant income. The money my parents left me is enough for me to live comfortably, especially when I supplement it by brewing certain potions on the side.

No one is really sure what to think I am: traitor or hero, I'm still an outsider. I don't bother them, and they don't bother me, and time passes.

I shouldn't have come tonight, to this absurd ministry event for those who fought the hardest and lost the most. It feels like a reunion from my final years at Hogwarts, years that I still achingly long for sometimes, and sometimes look back upon with nothing but loathing.

I lurk on the outskirts of the crowd, sipping my Firewhiskey and doing my best to ignore her. Her low-backed black dress shows off the flawless curve of her neck and the alabaster skin that's been haunting my dreams for the last few years.

Sometimes her eyes catch mine, and my insides feel like a black hole, and a part of me wants to suck her in, to drag her with me into this pit of despair.

Radiant is the only word that can describe her, linked arm in arm with that awkward Weasley boy who grins, a smirk that can only be worn by an idiot who has been given bliss and hardly recognizes it. Her laughter carries across the cacophony of voices. The ringing melodic sound sends ripples of pleasure through my body. The mood was somber at first, but has grown lighter, joy replacing sadness as those around me drink and reminisce.

Yes, we've grown apart, but our roots are too strong to deny. I feel more alone here than I do anywhere else, because here I feel the hollow void of every tentative connection I built during those years, connections that were severed the instant I raised my wand and killed the one man to truly believe in me.

And even though I had promised him, even though he wouldn't rest until I vowed to do him in when the time came, I see him every time I close my eyes at night, that sad, encouraging smile haunting my dreams, jolting me awake, panting and covered in sweat.

Hermione kisses that stupid Weasley and he paws at her like an overexcited fifth year and it's painful to watch those delicate rose lips pressed to his sloppy, devouring mouth. She pulls him close, smiling and so radiant. Some people glow like the sun, a light so bright and demanding it casts shadows on the flaws of everyone nearby. Hermione is different; Hermione is starlight. Everything her soft, addictive glow touches only becomes more beautiful.

Perhaps that's why women have started to cast longing looks at the gangly redheaded bastard. It certainly isn't any natural charisma or poise on his part. Let them have him; Hermione is far too exquisite for Ron Weasley. To truly appreciate her is beyond his frail capacity.

She pulls him close, and they start to dance. The way her willowy frame melts against him makes his awkward lead seem almost competent. I know my eyes are burning with jealous rage but I can't look away.

And her gorgeous, deep brown eyes, rich like dark chocolate, intoxicating and bittersweet, meet with my coal black gaze. She is whispering in his ear, laughing. My stomach twists as her lips brush her cheek, but her eyes lock back on to mine and she's moving across the room, headed straight for me.


	2. Chapter 2

It would be wrong to say she moves with the music; it seems as though each note comes an instant after the graceful movement it matches. The music moves with her. And the dress that cascades to her knees, slightly asymmetrical, shows off her flawless continuity. Every part of her fits, just right.

She smiles at me.

"Hello, Professor."

"Please, call me Severus."

"How are you, Severus?" She says my name like she's known me forever, the warmth in her voice is like what I would expect to hear from an old friend after years spent apart. I have no friends. Albus was all I ever really had, and any tentative bonds that had been forming with Minerva were severed the moment I uttered that wretched curse.

"Severus?" She looks concerned, looks like an angel, and I wish I hadn't been drinking so much because I can feel my unfocused gaze burning desperately into her eyes. "Are you alright?"

I manage to conjure a wry smile. "I'm as well as one can expect at a function such as this."

She smiles understandingly, but I can't imagine that she understands. No one in this room seems to belong more than she does. I'm shocked by what she offers next.

"Want to get some air?" Hermione quirks up one eyebrow, imitating the questioning expression I used on her so many times during her years as my student. Dumbly, I nod, following her outside. The crisp late summer night feels incredible on my lips and in my lungs, and to stand with her in the dazzling starlight is almost more than I can bear. She leads me away from the building into a thick patch of trees that looks like it stretches back for miles into the darkness.

"I have to admit," she says, leaning against a tree and reaching into a pocket I wouldn't have expected her dress to have, "I'm surprised to see you here."

Now it's my turn to quirk an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I know you detest these functions."

"Well," I'm not even sure myself why I've come tonight. Even if it is merely a manifestation of my strange fascination with her, I couldn't use that as an excuse. After a moment I continue, "actually, I'm a little surprised to find myself here. There are, I suppose, those worth talking to on occasion."

"I haven't seen you talk to anyone all night."

Damn, she's caught me. "Well, I tried to talk to Longbottom about his impressive Herbological advances- he has after all, made some very useful and rare potion ingredients considerably easier to come by with the crossbreeds he's create."

"Huh. I haven't had a chance to speak with Neville yet, actually. How are things going for him?"

I gave a sheepish grin. "I don't know. Apparently after everything he's faced, I still spook the man. He mostly blushed and stuttered before making a quick and not so subtle getaway."

Hermione laughs, and I finally notice the thin, stark white cigarette she has pulled out of her pocket. She holds it in her mouth and touches it with a tiny flame her hand shields from the wind. After taking a drag, she holds it out and offers it to me.

"You smoke?" I can't help but sound incredulous.

"Yes, _Professor._ Are you going to give me a detention?"

Oh dear god, am I blushing?

"It just seems a bit unlike you." I struggle to keep my tone casual, struggle hard not to betray my growing fascination.

She grins. "What do you think I'm smoking, Professor?"

"Call me Severus." I mumble.

"Answer my question," she teases.

I sniff the air, but it doesn't smell like tobacco. I recall having caught a few students smoking something with a similar scent during my time at Hogwarts, but I've always let Filch handle such violations.

The corners of her lips quirk up in the strangest smile. "Are you going to punish me?"

Now I know I'm blushing. I can't do more than shake my head slightly.

"You really don't know?" She sounds terribly amused.

"I'm not entirely sure." I venture.

She laughs. "It's amazing how ignorant most wizards are of the muggle world."

I look at her, puzzled.

"It's not like I simply ceased to exist during the time I was away from Hogwarts. I had a life outside of classes, and a group of friends that had nothing to do with school, though that was a side of myself people rarely saw. "

"You don't strike me as someone who would just gorge on muggle drugs as soon as you had a bit of free time."

"Severus, do you have any idea what it was like being me at fifteen? I had next year's texts memorized the first week of summer. My future always mattered to me. During the school year, I didn't let anything get in the way of my studies. But there were a couple of months every year that belonged to _me_. And yes, I did spend time on academic pursuits, but being the girl whose head was always stuck in a book would have driven me mad if I didn't take a break once in a while. I daresay you would not approve of the muggle teens I hung out with over the summers."

I just smirk at her, and she continues.

"Anyway, I've found that if I don't let myself be an idiot every once in a while, life gets dull. And that is why I think you should pull the stick out of your arse and take me up on my offer."

"What offer?"

She holds out the lit cigarette. It's a little smaller than others I've seen, and looks expertly hand rolled. I'm intrigued by the strong but not unpleasant scent it emits. Then I realize that I don't have it in me to reject anything she offers, even if I know it will be my death, and I somehow doubt that the consequences of this decision will be nearly so dire.

Whatever she is smoking, it's obvious this isn't her first time and she certainly seems to be doing well enough with her life. I take it, letting my long, calloused fingers brush the delicate silk of her hand, and inhale deeply. I'm actually enjoying the way it burns my lungs, sending an odd fiery sensation out in lapping tendrils until my entire body feels different. I inhale again, and hand it back. She grins at me, and butterflies swarm in my stomach. Gods, I haven't felt that sensation since… since _Lily_.

"You know, when I was in high school, I always wondered what it would be like to get you high, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd get the chance."

"Why do you smoke- whatever this is, anyway?"

"Well, tonight for instance- In polite society we sip champagne instead of smoking a joint. I've had a great deal of champagne already, enough to make my legs tingle and my head spin, but it has only made the people around me marginally more bearable." She takes another long drag and offers me the cigarette. It is, quite possibly, the most juvenile thought that has crossed my mind in years, but I'm not terribly concerned about the muggle drug Hermione wants me to take if it will allow me to steal a few more precious moments with her.

Suddenly, we hear footsteps. She shoves the lit cigarette into my grasp. I let out an odd little startled noise as she shoves me into a rather large shrub.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hermione, what are you doing out here?" Ron's voice evokes an involuntary response from my body, hackles up, nearly growling with possessive rage. For tonight, for these few moments, she could be mine. That alone might be enough to hold onto for the rest of my life. And he's trying to take it away from me.

"I told you, Ron!" She sounds so annoyed. "I need some fucking air. Can I have five minutes to myself without you bothering me?"

"Hermione, how do you think it looks for me to be standing there by myself?"

"Harry can keep you company."

"That's not the point, Hermione. You're my _wife._ You need to be there, by my side, not wandering off in the dark where god-knows-what might get you.

I am enraged. I want to charge out of the bushes and scream at him for his numerous violations of the way I know the universe should be. No man should speak to her that way, expect her to be his object, to live a life whose path is set by his own. The cigarette is still burning in my hand, and now the smell reminds me of her. I press it to my lips and inhale to feel closer.

I hold my breath as long as I can, until it feels like I'm drowning, and my lungs cry out desperately for air. I give in because I know if I wait much longer, my frantic exhale will be audible, even to someone as dense as Weasley.

And then it hits me. His _wife._ My eyes dart down and the gaudy ring sparkling lewdly from her left hand confirms this. I feel like I've been stabbed in the stomach. I sink to the ground, taking another long, dense drag and closing my eyes. An emptiness inside me, one I never really knew was there, swells unbearably. I try to fill the gaping hole with smoke. I don't think it's working, but every time I exhale my body seems to blur a little around the edges, and the raw emotions cutting slashes through the numbness are pushed closer together until they're confined into a small enough space to become bearable. I open my eyes, just realizing I'd closed them, and the sound of their yelling comes back to me.

I don't catch what they're saying, but peering through the leaves I see her fling the ring to the ground at his feet. Do they break up often? I'm a sick man to wonder if they're over for good, but I want her so badly I can't help but hope. She never struck me as someone who would have an on-again, off-again relationship. He is snatching up the ring and storming away. I get the sick feeling it will be on another woman's hand by the end of the night.

She crashes down beside me and my body melts everywhere it touches hers, and she is crying, crying so hard I can't do anything but take her in my arms.

"I- that wasn't supposed to happen!" She sobbed.

I stroke her hair, hating myself for loving touching her so much. "Shh, Hermione, I'm sure it'll be okay." This is the first time I've ever used her first name, and it sort of tingles in my mouth.

"No! Nothing will be okay! I was supposed to do it, I was supposed to be with him, and I ruined it, and it's so wrong."

"Hermione, if you love him, he'll have to understand."

"I don't love him!" The fierceness of her voice startles me.

"Why on Earth are you together?" My mind is pleasantly fuzzy, which makes tact difficult.

"I was supposed to marry him!" She insists, a frantic note causing a shrill ring in her soft, elegant voice.

"And why is that?"

"Harry marries Ginny. I marry Ron. We become part of the same family. We've been best friends since childhood, this is how it's supposed to be."

"But you don't love him."

"No! He's stupid, disgusting, ignorant, unrefined! I'd rather be stuck with a bloody troll. At least then I might get a moment to myself once in a while."

"Maybe it was time for this to happen. Hermione, he's so wrong for you." And I'm so wrong for letting my fingers trail over her silky hair, and inhaling her scent because I know this may be the last and only time we're this close.

I feel her nod against my chest. I wonder if she can hear how fast my heart is beating.


	4. Chapter 4

She takes the lit cigarette from my hands. It's much smaller now, and I realize just how affected I am. I feel an unusual stirring in my groin and hope that my bizarre arousal goes unnoticed.

For a while, she smokes and cries in silence in my arms, eventually pinching the lit end with her finger and tucking the extinguished thing back into her robe. She smiles at me.

"This strain in particular takes root pretty easily. Wouldn't want to disrupt the natural ecosystem."

And that strange bubbling feeling in my stomach suddenly makes sense, as the laughter tears free from my lips. She is laughing too, though we don't know why, and my arm is around her, and I can feel her breathing.

Finally, we stop. She looks up at me, tears still in her eyes.

"Take me home." She says, as though the phrase has some strange significance to her.

"I don't know where you live, and I hardly think Ron would approve…"

"I don't live there anymore. I meant, can I stay with you tonight?"

I've blushed more tonight that I think I have in my entire life. I nod and grab her arm. The force of apparating is one I'm very used to, but it leaves her reeling, falling back into my arms, and then we're both on the floor.

"Won't they wonder where you are?" I ask, trying to ignore the way her warm body feels against me, breathing hard, the dark silk of her gown brushing my fingertips.

"Fuck them all! I'm sick of 'supposed to'."

"Hermione, you're drunk. And I don't think what we just smoked has done much to improve your judgment."

"Then for my own safety maybe you should keep me here."

I'm in no condition to object. "You should get some rest. I'll show you to a spare bedroom."

"Severus, I don't want to be alone tonight." The words shake me to my core.

"Do you… do you want to join me in my bedchamber?"

She nods, looking oddly abashed.

I lead her there a little too fast to retain my dignity, but she feels so warm and inviting in my arms. I don't want to feel this, I know nothing good can come of it, but the tenderness building in me is overwhelming. Her lips look so inviting…

She staggers a few steps away from the bed and starts struggling with her dress.

"Severus, please! Help me get out of this thing!" She's nothing like the dignified woman I've been watching from the shadows all night, but this side of her in undeniably endearing. I help her peel away the fabric, and she stands before me in black lace undergarments that make me shudder with desire.

She plummets onto my bed, letting out a contented sigh. "I'm cold." She insists. How could the most graceful and dignified woman in the room a few hours ago be reduced to this silly girl?

I crawl into bed beside her, pulling a blanket over her body. She shudders against the cool fabric, and shifts closer to me.

"Hermione, I don't think we should-"

Her eyes bore in to mine. "Do you want to?"

"More than I care to admit, but-"

I am silenced by her kiss. Her lips slip against mine for a few seconds before parting, before I feel that hot, tiny tongue darting between my lips, creating a new path. My head is swimming, but I kiss her back with every ounce of passion I've carried for her through these endless years, the flame that started burning so long ago finally roaring to life, making my heart race and my palms sweat.

"Hermione, we shouldn't." I try to sound like I mean it even though I want to slap myself for saying it.

"I'm bloody tired of being told what I should and shouldn't do! Now shut up and give me what your eyes have been promising all night."

I groan against her neck and she shudders with desire. I can't stop this anymore. My tongue traces intricate patterns in a meandering trail from her earlobe to her navel, before I look up at her, hypnotized by her intoxicating scent, unable to believe what is happening.

I'm hard. Harder than I've been in years, and her sweet, musky aroma actually makes my mouth water with desire. Her fingers tangle roughly in my hair, forcing my face to go where it so desperately wants to.

And she tastes even better than she smells, tastes like the air before a rainstorm, beautiful and full of meaning. I drink her juices like a man dying of thirst, and her hips buck against my face, her fingers twining more deeply in my hair, pulling, pushing, and she's crying out in ecstasy.

I dare to slip a finger inside her, and within seconds she's climaxing hard against me, making my own arousal almost unbearable. She uses fistfuls of my hair to yank me up, then her fingernails dig into my hips as she pulls me close, and finally, I plunge into her.

I have known a lot of pleasure in my life, and even more pain, but never have I felt something this overwhelming. My groans are deep and feral as I drive into her, letting my mouth graze her delicate breasts as I drive my length inside as hard as I can, behind it, all the force built up in years of longing unfulfilled.

The climax is almost blinding, and her hoarse screams are enough to tell me that she's peaking with me. Our hips crash frantically together, and we collapse in each other's arms, riding the last small waves of bliss.

I draw her close and look down into her eyes in the dim light. We share an incredible silence, listening to the night whispering around us.

Before I can stop myself, I say the words that could ruin everything. "Please stay."

"Here?"

"With me."

"Forever."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Okay."

"You will?"

"And never look back."

Startled, amazed, I hold her so close I wonder if my embrace is painful, inhaling the scent of her hair. No words can describe the bliss, the peace I feel. I want tonight to never end, but I feel sleep wrapping tenderly around me, and I can't fight it for long. I can feel her breathing against me, and I know she's already drifted off.

"Hermione," I murmur into her hair, terrified she'll hear but half hoping she does, "I love you."


End file.
